Dance!
by HAQ
Summary: With much wile and wit, Miranda convinces Jack to dance with her. There will be childish arguments, bloody noses, excessive silliness, angsty crescendos and fluffy climaxes!


_Author's Note:_

_So, maybe I was playing Just Dance 4 the other day, and maybe I wasn't. Maybe I did a sequence in the game called "Cheerleader's Boot Camp", which featured a mix of punk and pop routines and I kept hallucinating Jack and Miranda. __And maybe I wasn't. __Maybe, I'm way too cool to play a game like Just Dance 4._

_And maybe I'm not._

_But enough about me, let's discuss the context of this story. This is set some time after the ending of ME3, with implications of a developed Jack & Miranda relationship. I've been itching to write this down for days. It's very very silly, a teensy bit serious, and very fluffy._

_But mostly, ridiculously, gratuitously silly. _

* * *

_**Dance!**_

"No."

"Oh, come on."

"It's stupid."

"A little. But it's fun."

"Hey, if you wanna make yourself look like a complete idiot, you go right ahead," Jack said, planting herself down on the couch and stretching her arms out over the back. "I'll watch. But I'm not doing it."

Miranda looked over her shoulder at Jack. As usual, Jack's eyes and lips were smeared with dark make-up and set firmly into their default expressions; an uncaring glare, and defiant sneer. She was bare-foot and wearing a pair of green cargo pants with a black tank top that read 'Biotic Bitch'. Miranda had gotten it custom-made for Jack's birthday last year.

With a quirk of her brow that made Jack's scornful gaze falter, Miranda turned back to the screen in front of her. She made a quick gesture with her hand, and the screen proceeded to flicker with streams of light and colour.

"Afraid of looking bad, are you?" Miranda said, keeping her back turned as she maneuvered through the selection screen. "And here I thought such symptoms of vanity were above you."

"Hey, it's not like that," Jack snapped, leaning forward slightly, "it's just stupid. Everything about it is... stupid. Fucking... stupid."

Miranda, who was sporting what she would call her 'slacks' (if dark blue, skin-tight aerobics gear fit for a Queen could qualify as such), glanced over her shoulder at Jack. Unable to keep the smile off her face, she quipped, "Sorry, could you repeat that last eloquent criticism? I don't think I quite got it."

"Oh, that's _funny_," Jack replied, slumping back. "Hey, why don't you just start the damn game so I can start laughing at you, princess."

Miranda turned back to the screen, smirking. Another flick of her hand, and the song was chosen. She rolled her shoulders as music began to fill the room, keeping her eyes trained on the screen.

"Just watch and learn, Zero," Miranda drawled. "Watch and learn."

Jack just snorted.

In accordance with the first beat of the song, Miranda executed a short spin that perfectly mirrored the figure on the screen. Behind her, Jack immediately burst out laughing. Miranda ignored her and continued mimicking the dancer, following the poses as they arrived on-screen.

Between snorts, Jack breathed, "You look―"

"Stupid?" Miranda interrupted, not breaking her concentration. "Tell that to my _perfect_ score."

Indeed, her current ratio was 17 perfect, 0 good, 0 bad and 0 missed.

Jack snorted. "Doesn't mean you don't look shit."

When Miranda accidentally turned the wrong way for a pose, earning her first 'bad', Jack roared with laughter once again.

It wasn't that Miranda even _looked _bad―her movements were fluid, mostly, and thanks to her fast reaction time and learning ability, she almost always mirrored the style and movements of the figure on the screen. But even she couldn't execute _every_ move perfectly, and every small mistake, coupled with the sheer frivolity of some of the dance moves, and the idiocy of the game itself, left Jack in stitches.

When the song was over, Miranda and the dancer gave their bow.

"Great job!" a figure on the screen exclaimed gaily. "You earned 4405 points!"

Miranda placed her hands on her hips, barely panting despite the demanding movements. She turned to Jack, who was curled up in the corner of the couch, red-faced and convulsing with breathless laughter.

Miranda had far too much self-respect to be embarrassed playing such a game, or to care what anyone thought of her playing it. She couldn't deny that 'Just Dance: Down Memory Lane!' was ridiculous, and that she felt extremely goofy playing it. It was impossible to take yourself seriously when you were performing for an inanimate screen. With its overly-perky game host, the sub-par graphics, the corny choreography and old poppy tunes―it was a silly game, there was no denying it, but despite its triviality it really was fun.

In fact, it was likely _because_ of its ridiculousness that Miranda took such joy in it. There were better games out there―masterpieces that had won literary awards, but she had never seemed to enjoy them as much, and never had the time, anyway.

But at the moment, all she could do was gaze at the imposing, heavily-tattooed woman in front of her, sprawled out on their couch without a care in the world, unable to contain her hysterical smiles and laughter.

Miranda crossed her arms, but her lips curled into an involuntary smile. Jack looked at her through teary eyes, and a strange warm feeling spread through Miranda.

"Do you know how stupid _you_ look," Miranda began, smiling, "curled up like a child and laughing uncontrollably? It's darling, really, the tears running down your rosy little cheeks―"

"Shut up," Jack interrupted in a hoarse voice, trying and failing to put malice into her tone. "I've just never seen anything so _bad _in my entire life. Gee, Miri, and I wondered why you never take me dancing."

"I've taken you plenty of times; you just can't dance."

At that, the smile on Jack's face was gone.

"I can dance."

"Thrashing and jumping about doesn't count as dancing."

"You wanna talk about shit dancing, after_ that_ performance?" Jack asked, pushing herself into a sitting position and leaning forward. She was managing to look far more menacing now, despite the fading red glow of her cheeks. "Do you even know how shit you looked just then? You made me cry―you made a grown woman cry because you were so fucking awful."

She was off her feet now, thrusting a finger towards Miranda, who didn't even flinch.

"I wouldn't even call it dancing. Why don't I film you doing another so you can see how fucking bad you are, huh? How about that?"

Miranda held Jack's gaze with cold disinterest, then uncrossed her arms. "You think you're better than I am?"

Jack snorted. "There's no competition, princess."

Miranda quirked a brow, unimpressed. "Dance with me, then. We'll see who wins."

Jack blinked, realizing what Miranda was doing. "Oh, no. No fucking way."

"Aw, are you afraid that I'll judge you, sweet-heart? Afraid that you'll lose? Afraid that I'll come out on top, like I always do?"

The smug look on Miranda's face was unbearable.

After muttering a string of curses under her breath, Jack stomped to Miranda's side and growled, "Just play the fucking song, and prepare to kiss my ass."

But giving Miranda choice of song was a huge mistake.

Jack's eyes widened. "No, you can't. That song is a million years old. I'm not doing this shit if you fucking choose it."

"Already have," Miranda replied matter-of-factly, adjusting the settings to include the two of them and readying herself. "You can back out if you want, but that means I win."

Jack howled. "Fuck you!"

"Later, maybe, after I've won and I decide you've kissed my arse for long enough."

"Fucking cheerleading son of a―"

"_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick.._."

The pair reached upwards with their right hands, then their left, grasping imaginary snowflakes. Then, a quick bend-at-the-knee drop to the ground―

"_And I think of you..."_

Slowly and dramatically standing up again―

"This is bullshit, a _good_? I did that fucking perfectly―"

"You're not doing it right."

"...How the fuck did you get perfect for that!?"

"You have to _glide_, Jack. _Glide_."

"I _am_ fucking gliding!"

"_Then you say, go slow... I fall behind..._"

They wrapped their arms around themselves―

"_The second hand unwinds..."_

Each spun slowly, bringing their hands out―

"Move over, you keep getting in my damn way!"

"Move out of _my _way―"

"_If you're lost you can look, and you will find me..._"

They turned towards each other with short, passionate gestures―

"_Time after time..._"

"Wipe that smile off your fucking face."

"_If you fall__..._"

Hand over their foreheads, duck at the knees―

"_I will catch you..._"

Hand over their hearts.

"This isn't even dancing! A hanar could do this shit, we're just swaying like―"

"_I will be waiting..._"

"You're just mad because you're losing."

A spin towards each-other...

"_Time after__―_"

"Ow!"

Miranda fell to the ground, clasping a hand over her face. Jack froze and looked down at her as the song receded into its next verse.

"Shit, are you―"

"You hit me!" Miranda accused nasally.

Jack held her arms out and shrugged sheepishly. "Uh, well... serves you right. You kept getting in my way."

"So you thought you'd _break my nose_?"

"It's your own damn fault! You just _had_ to choose that fucking song."

"Really? This is _my_ fault?" Miranda spat, voice rising angrily as blood seeped through her fingers.

"I didn't even want to_ play _this stupid game―"

"_If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me..._"

"You're such a _child_!"

"_Time after time..._"

"Look who's talking, you fucking―"

* * *

Miranda and Jack were sitting at opposite ends of the couch, glowering at the unmoving screen. The song had been paused, and the lyric 'If you fall, I will catch you' was frozen on-screen. The room was still now, and unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional sigh that escaped Miranda as she touched a finger to the purple area around her nose.

The sound was grating on Jack's nerves. When Miranda next sighed, Jack rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Would you stop your damn whimpering, it's not even broken," she said, looking over to Miranda.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Miranda replied coldly, not bothering to meet Jack's gaze. "I thought I heard something, but it was such a stupid comment that I knew no intelligent being could have said it."

A pause. "So you're saying I'm intelligent?"

Miranda shot her the iciest of glares. Jack held it for a few moments, until Miranda turned back to the screen.

Another long silence.

"Look, it was your own fault―"

"Shut up."

Jack's face screwed up angrily. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

Miranda turned her head slightly and frowned at Jack's figure.

They hadn't spent much time together recently. Jack had been trying to find work for months. There was always room for her back at Grissom academy, as Miranda kept reminding her, but staying in one place for too long made Jack feel antsy. Besides, _her_ students had already graduated, and she wasn't keen on growing attached to another bunch of kids just so she could say good-bye to them a year later, again.

Besides, Jack wanted to test the waters, go exploring, see what was out there. At least Miranda's work meant that they could travel on occasion. But it wasn't exactly good for Jack's ego when she was constantly being turned down by innumerable agencies on the basis of her appearance and past.

Miranda examined Jack's face. Her jaw was locked, and she was glaring at the screen, chin tucked against the bony arms that were wrapped around her knees. She had let her hair grow out a little recently, save for the lower portion which she kept shaved, allowing her tattoo to remain visible.

Miranda sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Damn it, Jack," she said finally. Jack's dark eyes glanced over to her.

"What?" Her brows were raised. She almost looked worried.

Miranda didn't know what to say. She shrugged her shoulders, then smiled helplessly. "Is this really... is this what it's going to be like? Is this really what you want?"

Jack turned her head and frowned at Miranda. "Geez, next time I'll be more careful, alright? Didn't know the game was so important to―"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Actually, I don't. What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean," Miranda said, exasperated, "is this all there is to us? Sex, arguments, make-up sex, then more arguments?"

"Is this you pushing for make-up sex?"

"Jack..."

Jack's brows furrowed, and she moved her head back to her knees. "I dunno. I mean, that's not all we do. We talk, and well, we dance, and we cry sometimes."

"We cry?"

"Yeah, well, you made me cry before when your dancing was so bad, remember?" Jack said, turning to Miranda with a small smile. "And I definitely remember you tearing up when I wrote you that poem."

"I did not. I don't even like poems."

"I saw it taped up in a frame in your office."

Miranda opened her mouth, then tried to turn away before a smile made its way onto her face.

"Saw that," Jack told her.

Miranda turned back and a throaty chuckle escaped her. Her face turned serious again all too soon, however.

"But is this what you _want_?"

Jack took a moment before answering. "You ask me that a lot, you know. I tell you it is, every time, but sometimes... I gotta wonder if I'm lying. Sometimes I wake up, and I don't understand what we're doing. Like, I can't believe we share a bed, let alone a place together. It was a hell of a lot easier when we were back on the Normandy and the only thing I thought about you was how best to tear out your pretty little throat."

Jack wasn't looking at her anymore, she was staring off to the side, looking at the floor as she spoke. Miranda swallowed. An unpleasant nervousness was whirring up inside her. This wasn't the reassurance she was hoping for.

"And sometimes," Jack continued, looking back to Miranda, whose stomach flipped at the vulnerable look in her eyes. "I'm not even here. I'm back in that chair. Or I'm back in the pit."

The couch squeaked as Jack stood up. She immediately began pacing, and Miranda's eyes followed her silently.

"Or... or I'm getting drugs shoved into me. I'm getting husks clawing at me. I'm looking up at a bunch of reapers and watching cities go up in smokes."

Discussions like these were always risky. She wanted to hear what Jack was thinking, but these trains of thought too often led to unpleasant memories and angry relapses. Miranda felt the urge to reach out to Jack, to bring her back before things escalated, like she always did, but only got as far as rising to her feet.

Jack noticed the sound of the couch shifting, and looked back at Miranda. She was frowning, but her eyes weren't spaced out like Miranda had been expecting. She merely looked like she was having trouble remembering something.

"And then I realise I'm not in any of those places anymore. I don't have to worry, 'cause I'm here, and I'm not killing anything, and nobody's choosing what I've gotta do next.

"And I'm not..." Jack began, then started scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. "I'm not alone anymore. I got you, and I got a future ahead of me. I don't understand a lot of it, and sometimes I don't know what to do with all the choice. I mean, sometimes I think there's something in me that's broken, and I'm gonna be searching for the rest of my life, trying to fix it. But I... I like this. I like what we have, and I like that I don't understand it, because every day I get to figure it all out a little more with you. Even if you're face does look like a giant purple prune right now, and even if you're dancing does suck. Hey, don't look at me like that―you're better than Shepard, I'll give you that much, okay? And I... jeez, Miri, can you just get over here and kiss me so I can stop saying all this mushy bull―"

Miranda was on her in a flash, relief replacing the nerves and tension that had been crashing through her system. Jack's hands went to Miranda's waist as she kissed her back softly; a rare response which seemed to be happening more and more often lately. Miranda went to rest her hands at the back of Jack's neck, when suddenly, Jack pulled away, ending the kiss prematurely.

Miranda blinked. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking," Jack replied, studying Miranda's face. "You really do ask me that a lot. You ask me if I'm happy, if this is what I want. And it is. And you know that. You know me."

Miranda's heart started beating faster.

"But... I never ask you," Jack said, frowning, as if she had just figured out something unpleasant. "Are... you happy?"

Miranda blinked. Was she? She hadn't even considered it; of course she was happy. She had meaningful relationships. She was in a position of power, making a difference. Oriana was safe and happy, studying at university. Her friends visited regularly, and she was enjoying her work. Everything was surely going well for her.

But... did that mean she was _happy_?

Was she frustrated by the long hours, by Jack's emotional baggage, by _her_ emotional baggage, by the lack of danger which used to make her feel so alive? Was she bored, in need of a challenge? Was that the only reason she was drawn to Jack in the first place? Was _she_ the reason they were having trouble lately? Did she want something different? Some_one_ different?

_What did she want?_

A tug at her hip brought her back to reality, and she looked into Jack's puzzled brown eyes.

"You're... not happy, are you," Jack said simply.

"No, it's not that, I just..."

What? What was it?

"I want... more."

"More?" Jack repeated, frowning. "More what? More money? More... _oh_."

Jack started pulling away, and Miranda felt her heart twinge.

"More than I can give you," she finished.

"No," Miranda said, and Jack halted. The hopeful pain in her eyes was heartbreaking. It was strange how someone could look so dangerous, and yet so vulnerable at the same time. It was as if Jack was simultaneously pleading for a sympathetic ear, whilst proclaiming that if anyone tried to lend one, she would rip it off.

But Miranda had realised what the problem was.

"I think..." she began, surprising herself as it became more and more obvious. "You're right. We went through hell, and when it was over, we didn't know what to do with ourselves. But it's not that simple anymore. We started rebuilding and living again; we had to. And a lot has changed. You're still the most frustrating creature to ever traverse the universe, and sometimes... it just feels like everything we've done, trying to make our lives better, hasn't mattered at all. And I get scared that... well, with all the stress, and all this time apart, we're falling back into our old patterns. That's why, before... I know it was a stupid thing to get angry at, but..."

Jack nodded. "I get it. But things _are_ different now. We could do this, you and me. I mean, I lumphoo."

"You what?"

Jack looked away and repeated, a little more clearly, "Ilovemphyou."

A smile crept on to Miranda's lips. "I didn't quite catch that..."

"Fuck you, Miranda."

Miranda grinned, then brought her hands up to rest on Jack's shoulders.

"I love you too, Jack."

Jack released a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"But," Miranda shrugged. "I still want more."

Jack looked at her. "I don't..."

"I want a family."

Jack's eyes widened.

"Shit."

* * *

_Super-Quick Author's Note: _

_Yes, the song was indeed 'Time After Time' by Cyndi Lauper._

_I know, I know, and I'm sorry. I really am._

_But by the time I realised what I was writing, it was too late._


End file.
